Breaking Dawn
by Lilith Demodae
Summary: Where did Princess Leia get the plans for the Death Star?


**Breaking Dawn**

* * *

"She's still refusing to speak, sir."

Captain Kaarst stood before the viewport in his office and stared out at the stars glittering in the blackness. "The interrogation drugs?"

"She's highly resistant, sir. I don't think they're going to help us this time."

"We _must_ find out where she transmitted those files to, Lieutenant. Lord Vader is already on his way, and I do not want to keep him waiting when he arrives."

"I'd rather transmit the information to him and decline the honor of his presence."

"Don't say that sort of thing where other people can hear you, Lieutenant. Those are dangerous sentiments."

"Yes, sir."

Captain Kaarst sighed. "It will have to be old-fashioned methods, then."

"Old they may be, but they still work, Captain."

"Yes, but I'm less than happy to apply them to a woman, Lieutenant."

"Better to beat a helpless woman than disappoint Lord Vader, sir."

The captain nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so."

* * *

The thud of fists on soft flesh twisted his stomach. That was why he'd joined the Fleet, instead of one of the other military branches. It was so clinical and remote in space. The smell of blood and singed flesh always happened far away, never impinging on his awareness except as sanitary casualty numbers.

"If you just tell us where you transmitted the data this can all stop."

Captain Kaarst winced as the trooper sergeant administering the 'questioning' struck her again, blasting the breath from her lungs, but forced himself not to look away. This was happening on _his_ ship, under _his_ authority. It was his responsibility to be there and witness it, no matter how he hated it.

The only response from the prisoner was a choking gasp as she fought to pull oxygen back into her deprived lungs. She was no longer recognizable as the pretty young thing that the Rebels had somehow won to their cause. Her delicate nose was now flattened across one cheek, dribbling blood. There was a cut stretched across one cheekbone, and everything was swollen and discolored, one eye more red than white with ruptured blood vessels.

"We know the data was diverted to your station. We know you transmitted it to your Rebel friends. Castus has already been executed for treason, for diverting the data. Tell us where you sent the data and the Emperor may have mercy on you."

The laugh that rasped past her split and oozing lips crawled up Kaarst's spine with spikey fingers of contempt. "Mercy? What the Emperor will have ordered done to me will resemble mercy the way this 'discussion' of ours here resembles police procedure. It won't matter if I tell you anything or not. I will die either way."

The words burst past his lips before he could stop them. "If it doesn't matter, then just tell us. It'll end, the pain and suffering will be over. Just tell us what we need to know." He'd been mute through the whole interrogation, and his breaking silence startled him more than it seemed to startle her.

"It won't matter to me, if I tell. It will matter to a great many other people, though." She coughed, spitting to clear her mouth, and left a gob of pink saliva on the deck. "It matters to the Rebellion. It matters to the people living in fear under the Emperor's doddering boots. Hit me as much as you like. I won't tell you."

"Lord Vader is coming," he whispered into the silence.

Slowly her eyes lifted to meet his. "I won't tell you."

He stared back into her eyes for long moments, knowing that the distaste and regret were showing clearly on his face. The sergeant shifted his weight, and Kaarst remembered his presence.

"Carry on, Sergeant. We need that information."

The bulky man didn't reply, only reached out and struck her across the face, rocking her head on her shoulders.

Captain Kaarst breathed shallowly through his mouth, trying desperately to ignore the iron tang of blood in the air, and forced himself not to flee the room.

* * *

He led the way back into the detention block. He stood at the door and let his eyes close as Lord Vader strode past and into the small room. The door slid closed, sealing the frightening man in the cell with the rebel woman. Alone.

Lord Vader had been explicit in his instructions, and Kaarst had not dared to do anything other than nod and acquiesce. He had dismissed all the guards back to the control room of the detention block. He alone still stood in the hallway. This was a minor deviation from his orders, but Vader had not expressly commanded him to withdraw as well.

Captain Kaarst wished that he _had_ returned to the bridge of his ship when the screaming started.

* * *

"... to the _Tantive IV_, which was already departing orbit. Records show that the ship was bound for Alderaan on a diplomatic mission."

Kaarst paused in his typing. The words were so cool, so clinical. They didn't give a hint of the shudder that had wracked him when the screams had trailed off to faint whimpers and Vader had finally exited the cell, that smooth, deep voice giving the name of the ship and a command for his shuttle to be readied so he could return to the _Executor_. The plain words didn't convey any intimation of the horror that had crawled up his throat and nearly choked him when he walked into the cell and heard her breathy pleading for it to stop, please stop, make it stop.

Now he was trying to put it in words, now that he'd washed the taste of vomit out of his mouth with a healthy swig of Corellian rum. Now that he'd drunk enough that his hands no longer shook so badly he couldn't type at all.

"Lord Vader departed aboard the _Executor_ to chase down the ship."

He'd stopped it for her. It was the only thing he _could_ do. He wasn't certain she'd even been aware that he was there. She hadn't reacted in the least when he'd pressed the barrel of his sidearm to her temple.

"At 2242 galactic standard time the prisoner Dawn Ultack was executed for treason against the Empire."


End file.
